


The Days We Break

by missme



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 1848, Alternate Universe - Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missme/pseuds/missme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>16 years after the June Rebellion, Marius stands on the barricade of the 1848 French revolution and the memories of his friends bring about emotions that he's struggled to keep down for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Days We Break

**Author's Note:**

> 16 year later AU, trigger warning: implied PTSD, panic attacks, etc. I'm admitting right now that i'm not sure if I did this topic justice but I did try so please don't take offense by anything written here, if anything seems to stand out as glaringly offensive, let me know...might do another one similar to this about the 10 year anniversary of their death but with a slight surprise. 
> 
> Title taken from "Marching On" by One Republic which really should be the anthem of Les Amis

Marius stood at the top of one of the many barricades that had been built in the city and looked around at the eerie calm that he had learned always follows after a battle. How strange it was, to be here again. A small part of his heart felt like it was soaring – finally he had helped accomplish that which he and his friends had attempted sixteen years ago. But the majority of his heart – the part that he had struggled so hard these many years to push down was reeling. Shame and guilt engulfed him and he felt himself sinking. He hadn't had an episode this staggering since that June day six years ago when he had gone through his friends' belongings that he kept in a box tucked away in his armoire. It seemed to Marius that the tears he felt were burning into his skin. Was he just like a woman now, weeping like this? After all he had gone through, how could he be this weak? How he wished for Cosette at this moment. Had it not been for her constant support, he would be just as dead had Valjean left him at the barricade that day. She always knew what to say or not to say and never thought any less of him for the way he acted. But now she was not here; she had done as he said and went to stay in the countryside with their daughter and two sons, but not without reluctance and not without a fight, but he had not expected anything less from her.  


Marius had gone through this cycle enough times to feel himself begin to calm down, his breathing becoming slower, less ragged. It felt as if he was falling asleep but his mind was fully conscious. Fatigued numbness was spreading through him but the images and sounds that he remembered from the June revolt were still tattooed to the back of his eyes and every time he closed them the memories were no less vivid. He was shocked that he had been able to make it through the two days of battle without breaking down but now everything was crashing down on him. All of the new deaths he had seen and caused, old memories mixed with new ones, the people he had known and loved and lost were spinning through his head like a carousel but all he could do was sit there, frozen and forced to face his thoughts.  


“Marius, what's wrong today? You're pale as a ghost.” Marius groaned as more memories of his friends pressed his brain. He didn't respond to the voice he didn't care to recognize and waited until he heard footsteps walking off and he was alone again.  


Ever since the June revolt he had lost a spark in himself that he had once felt. He did not isolate himself completely, in fact company helped keep his mind busy. But never again did he connect with anyone as he had with the members of Les Amis – and perhaps he didn't want to connect. He didn't want anything to replace the memories of the months he had spent with them, of the time they had been together in school and Le Musain.  


Now he went to meetings where new students were sprouting new ideas, attended rallies, never stopped fighting for what he and his friends believed in. What kind of way would it be for him to honour his friends by not fighting for what they died for? But he never allowed himself to get close, would always stay quiet, listening and taking direction for others but never being truly immersed. At times he struggled with the idea that he wasn't doing enough, that his friends wouldn't be pleased with what he was doing to help. Those days nearly killed him.  


Although fresh tears were now streaming down Marius' face, he felt in control of them, as if after going through the progression of events once his brain took a break from tormenting him. It took him five minutes to stand up, and fifteen to get to the bottom of the barricade. He still did not feel in complete control of his limbs and that something was guiding them for him blindly. There he found people in all stages of life. Children running to hug fathers, women crying of the bodies of their lovers, old men smiling, knowing that the world might at last be changing even if they would not get the chance to see it. Before he could let his mind take over again at the sight of these reunions, the leader of his particular barricade, Alexis, stepped in front of his path.  


“You've worked hard today sir, you may rest in the house there with some of your other comrades. But be up and here again in two hours.” Marius was grateful for the opportunity to sleep but as he walked to the house that Alexis had pointed out, he couldn't help but think of how different this man was to Enjolras. Both were powerful, determined and passionate. But these things are necessary when being a leader. No, the differences were subtle. Whereas Enjolras could captivate a whole audience with speeches of freedom and peace and justice, Alexis was more brutal. He used the thought of the bloodshed of his enemies to lure people to his cause and after years of suffering, of course it had worked. When Enjolras spoke, you could see how badly he had wanted this world to be changed for the better just in the way his blue eyes flickered; when Alexis spoke, only dulled coldness caused by too many years of living through hardships could be seen.  
When Marius lay down on one of the many cots that had been set up in the small room, he drifted into sleep instantly, his body exhausted from having revisited the past so much in such a short amount of time.  


He came into consciousness in a field much like one Jehan had taken him to before the barricades arose. He no longer felt tired and the pressure on his head had finally lifted.  


“Regarde! Look who it is my friends, our own little revolutionary.” Marius jumped to his feet at these words – it was not that they were cold or hurtful, but because even after 16 years, he would always recognize Courfeyrac's voice. Although they had been blocked out of his line of sight by the sun just a moment before, now Marius could clearly make out the eleven figures lounging around him. And once again he fell to his knees.  


“But how can this be? Have I gone mad? Have I died in my sleep?” Marius was nearly clawing at his hair before a gentle hand came and guided him up again. Eponine smiled at him wistfully – a look that was mirrored by the rest of Les Amis and Gavroche. He embraced her tightly, trying to convey so much in that one touch, before she separated them but kept her hand on his cheek.  


“You are not dead, just dreaming. We thought that now would be the right time, since we are only allowed to come once.”  


“I'm so sorry.” Was all he could muster. After years of dreaming and praying of having just one more chance to speak with them and all that he would say and this is all he could come up with. Shame filled him again and he hated himself even for that.  


“We died for Patria, there is nothing to be sorry about. It is what we wanted, we knew what we were risking. Do not be ashamed because you did not die with us, there was so much more that God had you do. You used the passion that stemmed from our deaths to fuel your involvement in this new revolution. And this will be the one that truly liberates France, I am sure of it. We could not be any happier that it was you who got to continue Marius, you needed it and you did well; better than we ever did. Thank you for continuing what we believed in.” Marius' jaw slackened slightly at this speech, made to him by a man who never seemed to terribly enjoy his company. Could it be possible that Enjolras had grown even more eloquent in death?  


“That is the only thing that has kept me going for all these years, hoping that I have served you well. Hearing you say it is a great pleasure.” Courfeyrac, whose eyes now seemed more than a little red, came and held Marius, whispering over and over again “You've been so strong” as if he needed to apologize to Marius. He feared that his heart could not take much more shock this day, even if it were just in a dream. Soon the whole group followed suit, not caring how it seemed, and everyone was hugging Marius, crying, clapping him on the back or simply just standing there smiling.  


They spent the rest of what seemed to be the afternoon reminiscing, and it wasn't until Marius began to nod his head that he remembered that this day must come to an end eventually. It ended like it had begun, each of Marius' friends coming forth and embracing him, some spending more time than others, saying goodbyes and thank yous and apologies and everything that had wanted to be said before but never could. Soon Marius found himself lying once again in the field, the outline of everyone he loved fading into blackness. He felt his body becoming numb just as it had on the barricade, but this time out of love rather than despair and for the first time in all those years did his head feel free of the pressure of shame and guilt, finally knowing that he did what his friends would be happy with and everything went black.


End file.
